


alone with you (from now on)

by oculata, unearth



Series: honeymoon, forever [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Come Eating, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Season/Series 11, You've been warned, ian calls mickey baby in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:22:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27914470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oculata/pseuds/oculata, https://archiveofourown.org/users/unearth/pseuds/unearth
Summary: Round two of five.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: honeymoon, forever [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2044024
Comments: 7
Kudos: 246





	alone with you (from now on)

**Author's Note:**

> we went insane. mickey did this
> 
> [mar twitter](https://twitter.com/ocuIata)   
>  [laur twitter](https://twitter.com/markofalover)

Ian’s never quite sure how he does it, but any time Mickey is near him, and _especially_ when he’s underneath him, he manages to be everywhere. His legs are wrapped securely around Ian’s waist, shaking and tensing in tune with the snap of Ian’s hips. His blunt fingernails are dragging across the expanse of Ian’s back, leaving fresh angry marks alongside the ones that are still throbbing from an hour ago. 

But then he’s pulling Ian impossibly closer, hip to hip, pressing his warm mouth to the hot skin of his neck. It rips Ian’s attention away from everything else, makes him zero in on the sensation and let out a low, almost unbelieving _oh_. Makes him focus on fucking into his husband earnestly, so he can hear more of Mickey’s fucking _noises_. 

He’s honestly beginning to feel a little lightheaded with all the sensations whisking around his body, everything lost in sweat and lube and cotton sheets, but then Mickey places a hand on him and breathes into his neck and he’s back on solid ground. Mickey’s so good at those gentle breaths—the ones that wisp across the damp skin on his neck, the place Mickey’s been sighing and moaning into for the last few moments.

“Fuck, Ian,” he’s moaning, breath dragging roughly against the column of Ian’s throat.

Mickey pulls away from him, and those big eyes looking up from under dark lashes have him feeling like he’s once again on the best possible end of too overwhelmed. The air between them is still for a moment and Ian’s thrusts slow as they pour themselves into each other’s eyes.

“Please kiss me,” Mickey says just above a whisper into Ian’s open mouth, the words hanging hot and desperate in the air.

Ian doesn’t waste any time, closing the slight gap between them as soon as Mickey finishes speaking. He licks into Mickey’s mouth as he halts his thrusts, gasping in surprise when Mickey makes a startled little noise from high up in his throat. 

“Tastes like fuckin’ strawberry, man,” Mickey laughs after pushing him away, plush lips framing his teeth. He’s looking off over his shoulder and his hair is a complete mess, and Ian feels his hips to start to move again slowly. He traces his right hand across Mickey’s shoulder and collarbone before his fingertips laze up his throat and wrap around it. With a short, sharp breath, Mickey’s head floats back to under Ian’s pupils.

“Who was it that wanted _nipple pinchin’_ and _ass eatin’_?” Ian asks lowly, adopting a familiar falsetto accented with raised brows.

“Fuck off,” Mickey complains, but he’s _smiling_ , eyes all crinkled up in the corners like he’d just seen the sweetest thing in the world. He licks over his bottom lip, quietly humming at the taste again, and grabs at Ian’s ass. “Come here.”

And then they’re kissing again, wet sounds adding even more heat to the thick air in their bedroom. Mickey tightens his ankles at the small of Ian’s back and lets out an impatient whine as he grinds down on Ian’s cock, begging for more than what he’s being given. 

Mickey’s body feels so hot beneath him, and he’s moving around in the tiniest of increments on the bed, making their chests rock and stick together from the sweat—Ian’s not sure how he’s lasted this long; there’s just so much of Mickey around him, holding him tight and covering him with warmth. Ian feels Mickey’s thighs start to tremble against his sides and then he’s pounding against Mickey’s ass, hand tightening around his neck. 

In between the sounds of skin on skin, Ian hears a little whine drain out of Mickey’s throat, so soft but visceral that he sees how it makes Mickey’s irises momentarily hide behind his eyelids. Ian lets his gaze wander, drinks in the sight of the light freckles dusted across Mickey’s bared throat and underneath his jawline. He can almost see the exhale and moan as they escape from Mickey’s open mouth to fill the air. He always looks so pretty when he tips his head back against the pillow, arching up against Ian’s body like he’s the only person in the universe.

“Fuck,” Ian whimpers, opting to instead lay kisses on Mickey’s exposed throat, reveling in the feeling of how Mickey’s moans vibrate through his skin. And it’s like Mickey knows he’s about to unravel because he’s looking back down at Ian and intentionally grinding up against his pelvis, eyes wide and soft and _pleading_. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna come soon,” Ian pants, lifting himself off of Mickey to brace himself on one arm and looks down at how his cock is pushing in and out of him. “You still want me to fuck you, baby? Fill you up?”

“In my _mouth_ , I want it in my mouth.”

Ian freezes and pulls out completely, in a bit too much of a daze to quickly figure out what he needs to do. But Mickey urges him on with a tap on his leg and with his tongue slipping out from between his lips, and Ian spares no time to hobble up Mickey’s body on his knees, hand around his dick.

He’s sure that Mickey’s mouth is prettiest when it’s open—there’s something about his lips that always made the most gorgeous image, as if they were made to be covered in his come. As if they were made to be messy, absolutely fucking _filthy_. 

It’s already open when Ian gets in position, top teeth peeking out from under his lip, so fucking obscene that Ian almost loses it right there. Mickey must have seen how blown out his pupils got because he’s opening his mouth even wider and pushing his tongue out over his bottom lip. His forehead is so relaxed, just like it is when they kiss—like it’s all he’s meant to do in the world, like he’s at his most reposeful.

It’s also the way he looks up at Ian, all imploring and doe-eyed, showing Ian just how much he wants it. Ian’s so fucking amazed at how plush and pillowy his lips look, adorned with light freckles bleeding out through pink, how they’re so encouraging and in need of him. He sharply leans forward to press one hand on the headboard for stability and pulls at his cock until he’s on the edge.

“Please,” Mickey breathes.

And that’s all it takes. 

With a loud moan, Ian looks down and watches his come coat Mickey’s lips and chin in translucent ropes. Mickey’s still looking up at him, only glancing down to briefly watch Ian’s come paint his face before looking back up at him even needier than before. His tongue darts out to catch what didn’t make it in his mouth, and he whines when he can’t get it all. 

With a sigh, Ian reaches down with a shaky hand and gathers his come gently with an outstretched thumb, then messily smears it across Mickey’s bottom lip before pushing it inside his hot mouth and against his awaiting tongue. Mickey lets out a shaky exhale through his nose while his tongue glides up and down Ian’s thumb when Ian feels a hand reach down and wrap around his wrist. He watches as Mickey pushes his thumb deeper into his mouth, tongue sliding around to reach any come he might have missed. 

“You took that so good for me,” Ian murmurs as he pushes down on Mickey’s lip, exposing his teeth. “Always do.”

Mickey smiles, but it looks distracted and a little too forced, and combined with the sharp movements he feels behind him, Ian realizes Mickey’s trying to get himself off. He reaches back and slaps at Mickey’s wrist, effectively stopping him in his tracks. They stare at each other, only Mickey’s panting filling the thick air between them, and Ian slides next to Mickey on the bed, supporting his head up on one hand as he lays on his side. He takes Mickey’s cock in his hand and slowly begins to work it, using the leftover lube to his advantage.

His eyes quickly zip up Mickey’s body just in time to watch his eyes flutter closed and his back arch slightly off the bed. The hand under his head moves to tip Mickey’s face towards him. He pulls on Mickey’s chin, causing his lips to part and his body to slacken. His eyes are alternating between heavy lidded and completely closed as he gently thrusts up against Ian’s fist.

“You look so pretty like this.”

“Yeah?” Mickey shudders, eyes fluttering open as he bucks his hips.

“Yeah,” Ian says on a hot breath. “With my come all over your face. Looking so good when you fuck my hand. So perfect.”

He pulls Mickey’s face closer to his, Mickey’s moans trickling out and into his mouth. He’s stroking him faster, tighter, hovering his lips over Mickey’s. The feeling of his breath on Mickey’s lips always makes Mickey beckon him for a kiss. Ian grabs onto Mickey’s chin and presses their mouths together. The taste of himself and their strawberry flavored lube on Mickey’s tongue makes him feel fucking insane, and he breathes out a noise of surprise when he feels Mickey’s hand hover between their faces. He feels how Mickey’s thumb is indenting his own cheek and suddenly it’s being pushed in between both of their mouths, covered in the taste of Ian’s come. 

It seems to push Mickey over the edge. Ian can feel Mickey’s body tense up beside him, and Mickey breaks the sloppy kiss to rest his head on Ian’s shoulder. Ian leans his cheek against the top of Mickey’s head and shudders when he feels his hand Mickey’s come dribbling down his hand and pooling on Mickey’s tummy. 

Their breaths are coming out in shuddered waves, bodies heaving against each other as their lungs, hearts, and brains return to normal. Mickey’s eyes loll closed, but Ian keeps watching him—how the blush clouds his cheeks and how the lines in his face soften. His image is interrupted by Mickey intertwining their fingers, then bringing their clasped hands up to his face. Mickey briefly presses his lips to Ian’s silver ring, drops their hands in between them, and begins to slowly drift off to sleep.

As Ian’s there watching Mickey’s chest rise and fall with his short breaths, lips parting slightly and shoulders sagging as his muscles relax, he comes to understand that every definition of love and happiness he knows involves Mickey and his pretty smile and soft eyes and kind heart. It’s about how he feels most like himself when the sunshine warms his face and he has Mickey’s hand in his—more than anything, it feels like what he always imagined what “normal” to be. He never saw anyone else in his dream kitchen in his dream house; he never imagined vacation polaroids with anyone else, barring a random musician; and he certainly never imagined waking up next to someone who wasn’t Mickey. This was his normal. This was his only. This was his world without end. 

Ian blinks. “So,” he coughs awkwardly.

Mickey hums and raises an eyebrow.

“You up for round three or what?”

Mickey smiles and cups his hand around Ian’s jaw again, and they allow themselves to melt into each other once more.


End file.
